Nyx

The moon would be full in two days and Hex was coming out of his skin. He knew Nyx could take a lot, but Hex had genuine concerns he might fuck him to death. Or pick a fight. He was so agitated that he decided to hit the gym hard and let Nyx get some much needed rest. His plan was to come home with dinner. He was on the treadmill having sick fantasies about a rotisserie chicken and a baguette.

When he felt a bit better, a bit of energy burnt off between a run and a lot of weights, Hex hit the shower and cleaned up to head home to Nyx. He stopped on the way to buy some flowers from a street vendor for Nyx and was admiring them when a woman came close. He heard her, then smelled her, then turned to look into frightened eyes.

Help me she mouthed at him and his senses went on high alert. All that time in the gym was for nothing. He gave her a nod and started scanning behind her. He didn't need to search. A chavvy bloke with stubble and a stupid hat walked up boldly, not even half Hex's size.

"You dumb bitch, get back here," he said, close enough to reach for her. Hex remembered strong arming her behind him and stepping forward...

* * *

Nyx's phone rang, the ID flashing Police. Hex sat by the sergeant's desk in cuffs, wrists and ankles, and those connected by a chain so short he needed to lean forward.

"I can try Dess again, Hex," the man offered. "I think it might go to voicemail. Do you have a third try?"

Hex heard the tone ring again, his stomach squirming.

"No, he'll answer," he wished.